


dancing on the ruins, building up the base

by embraidery



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, amanda spreading her wings! shaving her head! go amanda!, eventually, nonbinary!Amanda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embraidery/pseuds/embraidery
Summary: shaving her head starts something, shakes something loose, shakes something up.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman & The Rowdy 3
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	dancing on the ruins, building up the base

**Author's Note:**

> contains marijuana and alcohol use, and in playing around with metaphor etc i ended up getting a bit lyrical about body parts like bones. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

martin's giving himself a haircut one night, chewing on a toothpick as he carves his hair away, and amanda asks if he'll do her hair next. of course, drummer, he says, anything you like, so when he's done he pats the spot in the dust in front of him and amanda scoots over. they're having a bonfire that night and at one point it was loud loud bright singing screaming dancing sparks flying weed alcohol both neither, but now it's burned down to embers and gripps and cross are dozing on each other's shoulders with vogel across their laps and it's quiet, the batteries on their portable speaker having died ages ago, and amanda wants to lean back against martin but she can't if she wants her hair cut, and she does. so she sits up straight and listens as the clippers dance and buzz through her hair. the batteries die halfway through leaving her hair a little uneven and it's not as short as she wants it eventually but that's fine, plenty of time to fix it later, it's not like she sees many people besides the Three and they would all love her if she had the ugliest haircut in the world. she doesn't get to take a look at her new 'do until the next day when it's her turn to sit shotgun and she flips down the visor so she can use the tiny little mirror there. it feels weird, not bad but weird, to see herself with no hair at all. she rubs the top of her head enjoying the new texture. when martin shaves the rest of it for her it's like sandpaper and she's obsessed. she smiles more and she looks in the little visor more. they stop at a gas station once and she loses at rock paper scissors so she pumps the gas while the others get snacks and standing there in her leather jacket and her shaved head she hears the cashier ask that's your van there, with the dude in the jacket? that's never happened before. something clicks into place in amanda's heart, a key is turned that has never been turned before, and she thinks, that's interesting. that's something i'll tuck away to think about later. 

she forgets for a long while but later when she gets the clippers out and shaves her own head she thinks about it and she wonders if anyone will mistake her for a man this time and she wonders why she likes that idea. and later that night when vogel says you're a smart lady, boss, amanda wonders why she feels a wrongness worming its way into her ribs and teeth and the back of her eyes where they connect to her brain. she closes her eyes against the bonfire and the stars, absorbs the warmth of the fire and her family’s love from behind her eyelids, watches the light flicker and dance. you good, drummer? martin asks. she opens her eyes, smiles, nods. all good, she says. just takin’ it all in. and she is good, mostly. she accepts the joint gripps passes her and brings the smoke deep into her lungs, feels the warmth spreading through her veins. exhaling is an odd kind of grief. 

she was never really a dresses kind of girl and so it surprises her when they stop at a thrift shop and a dress catches her eye. it looks like the kind of thing she might have worn in wendimoor, not quite herself, in an unfamiliar world. it’s splotched and dotted and splashed with colour, and she ignores it, but even as she goes around the store looking for another pair of jeans to replace the ones she’s worn out beyond repair, she feels the dress in the back of her mind. she finds two pairs of jeans and a nice soft t-shirt for a band she forgot she loved, and just at the last minute she adds the dress to the stack and buys it without trying it on, cause it’s only three dollars. 

she doesn’t want to wear it in front of the Three for a reason she can’t articulate. for now it’ll be her secret, just for her. she puts it on one afternoon when she’s staying at the van with cramps while the others go get food, except the beast, who coos over her and strokes her forehead, and it’s a little weird but it’s very sweet, as most things are with the beast. when she eventually disappears on some errand of her own, amanda unearths the dress from the bottom of her bag and pulls it on over her t-shirt and jeans. she looks at herself in the van’s sideview mirror and twirls around, feeling a little foolish, a little like a princess. looking down at the swirls of color makes her a little dizzy on top of her already knotted stomach, but there’s an odd joy in it, a little unfurling in her heart. she stops and looks at herself again, puts her hands on her hips, crosses her arms across her chest. there’s a bird fluttering its wings in her ribcage, just gently brushing the sides of her lungs and her heart, tickling the inside of her throat and making her smile. strangely it doesn’t make her feel girly (well in a way it does, she feels like she’s eight again). she feels--strong. and that catches her off-guard. she raises an eyebrow at her reflection, nearly-bald head and all. 

she leaves the dress on.

the beast loves it, of course she does. cross and gripps compliment her on it, something very honest and vulnerable behind their eyes. martin looks at her in that way he has, surveying her down to the cellular level, uncovering bones and nerves and blood vessels, but he puts her back together with a clap on her shoulder. vogel on the other hand acts as if an alien has stolen amanda’s identity. what’s that, boss, he asks, that’s not what you usually wear, and something shrinks a little inside amanda’s chest. just something i’m trying, she says nonchalantly. she thinks about taking it off but ever since the beginning of this whole crazy adventure she’s been practicing not shrinking herself down, keeping herself contained in her bed in her room in her house. instead she drinks a potion like alice, straining against buckling walls as she grows, bursting the walls outward in a shower of wood chips and nails. she stands up to her full height, head brushing against the stars, giant-feet dancing on the remnants of the house. 

she leaves the dress on. 

**Author's Note:**

> tune in next time to see amanda wearing a suit! hopefully! we will see what my muse has to say about that


End file.
